


Mirrors

by Carmarthen Juvenilia (Carmarthen)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Embarrassing Old Fic, Juvenilia, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sexual Tension, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/pseuds/Carmarthen%20Juvenilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley gets his ear pierced, and there is a great deal of obliviousness, and also a footnote. A silly attempt to explain Crowley's earring on the Graham Ward cover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirrors

"Er...Crowley...don't you think it's a bit--" Aziraphale broke off and waved one well-manicured hand vaguely about.

"A bit what?" Crowley asked, attempting unsuccessfully to look at his new earring out of the corner of his eye. It just made his head hurt, so he gave it up and looked at Aziraphale over his sunglasses instead.

"You know...poofy."

Crowley just stared at Aziraphale.

"I mean...it's all dangly. And it's a diamond," Aziraphale said, backing himself further into a metaphorical corner. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added as an afterthought.

Crowley kept staring.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale looked unnerved, Crowley noticed. How nice; at least the day wasn't entirely wasted. Unnerving a member of the Other Side was generally a proper demonic thing to do. Maybe he'd get a special mention. Or maybe the other demons would just laugh at him and then torture him slowly.

"Crowley?"

Right. Crowley absently waved his hand and held out the object that obediently appeared.

"What's this?" Aziraphale asked suspiciously, taking the object.

"A mirror," Crowley said. "Surely you've seen one before. They've been around nearly as long as we have. I mean, I know there are all those rules about vanity, but you look like you've combed your hair recently and a mirror generally helps with that." He stopped, aware that he was babbling. Aziraphale didn't seem to have noticed.

"Oh," Aziraphale said, nodding. "Right. A mirror." He glanced down at the mirror and then back at Crowley. "And you're giving me a mirror because...."

"Forget it!" Crowley thought the mirror back to nonexistence. "Trust subtlety to be wasted on you, angel."

"It's not that I don't like the earring," Aziraphale said hastily. "It's quite a nice earring, really. I've always envied your fashion sense a bit, you know."

Crowley stared at Aziraphale in disbelief again, then shook his head. "I'm going to go have a drink."

"But it's Christmas!" Aziraphale looked rather taken aback.

"And I'm a demon," Crowley said, shaking his head again. "A _big_ drink."

After Crowley was safely out of the bookshop, Aziraphale vanished under the counter for a few moments, only to reappear triumphantly brandishing a bedraggled sprig of dried-up mistletoe that looked as if it had survived the Roman invasion of Britain.[1]

Now, where he could conveniently hang it so that the customers wouldn't be likely to go under it?

* * *

[1] Which it might have, considering Aziraphale's hoarding tendencies.


End file.
